


Unknown

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Gotta Get Back to Hogwarts (Unafraid Verse) [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hufflepuff Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 17:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11787615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: As Shiro enters his fourth year at Hogwarts, there's a lot he doesn't know about his future.   As he tries to figure out what he wants and what he needs, Professor Coran comes to him to ask for a favor: to help tutor one of the first years in Transfiguration.Shiro agrees, and sets himself down a path he'd never expected for himself.A remix of Unafraid by Buttered_onions





	Unknown

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unafraid](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9136501) by [buttered_onions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttered_onions/pseuds/buttered_onions). 



> Written for the 2017 VLD Remix Challenge! The idea is to rewrite another author's fic, be that from another POV, with small changes, or expand upon another scene.
> 
> I chose the last one.

**00\.  These are the things Shiro doesn’t have.**

A prefect’s badge, shining against his robes.  Shiro does have his Hufflepuff emblem, stitched on proudly, and he has his Hufflepuff ties, bold yellow and sleek black.  He’s proud of them both, and he has been for four years now. Shiro has never had a reason not to be.

But ambition isn’t a trait only for Slytherins.  Shiro is more than willing to work hard and put in the time.  He’s patient, ready to wait the year between now and fifth year, when he may or may not have the honor of being Prefect bestowed upon him.  He’s not looking for shortcuts or to take it without earning it.  Without the effort, the badge isn’t worth anything, not really.

Shiro _wants_ to be a prefect, though.  Desperately.  He wants the validation that his work is good, that he’s making progress and standing out.  He wants the chance to show that he can be trusted with the responsibility, to show he’s stood out among his peers.  Among the Hufflepuff boys, he’s the one best suited to the job.

Shiro wants it because of what he doesn’t have.

A legacy.  A past.  A family line.  

Well, no, of course he does.  Shiro has parents and grandparents, two sets.  He has great-grandparents he’s never met, distant cousins he sees once every half a decade for reunions.  Shiro has a family.  One he loves, he really does.

That’s different from a legacy.  That’s different from what his friends have, when they talk about their families.  Shiro is only left with awkward silences when he tries to explain his parents Muggle jobs, blank stares damning without ever saying a mean word.

Shiro has no roots in Hogwarts.

When he brings that up, Matt laughs and Allura tutts at him.

“You need to lighten up,” Matt tells him, feet propped up on the table.  The bright red of the Gryffindor common room reflects over them all, making Matt’s hair look copper rather than mousey brown. A nearby sixth year gives them a flat look but Matt ignores it and Allura shrugs it off, so Shiro lets it go too.  

Allura nods agreeably.  The couch they’re all piled into is trying to swallow her - maybe literally, knowing the Gryffindors.  “No one has roots in Hogwarts,” she tells him, then frowns thoughtfully.  “Well, alright, I do.  But I don’t count, I’m a unique case.  This is a school, it’s supposed to be temporary.  That’s the point.”

They smile back at him, soft and encouraging.  Shiro smiles back, but it strains at the edges.

Shiro doesn’t have friends who understand.  Maybe everyone feels that way at 14, but neither of his friends seem to really _get it._  They’re powerful and clever and brave.  Shiro knows their future will be bright by their own merits, not by their families clearing the way.

But it doesn’t _hurt_ either.

Maybe what it all comes down to is that Shiro doesn’t have a plan.

He hadn’t needed one, before he knew about magic, but Shiro had ideas.  His parents had been quietly nudging for realistic goals, like doctor or engineer, but Shiro had his eyes on the sky.  Astronaut or pilot or hot air balloonist - it hadn’t mattered.  It had all caught his attention and made him yearn for wind and adventure.

After, Shiro hadn’t set his sights any lower.  His dragon phase is, by now, faded enough to be cringe inducing rather than exciting.  His cheeks heat just remembering how stupid he’d been about the whole thing.  A dragon at Hogwarts, _really?_  What had he been thinking?

Now, as a much more mature fourth year, Shiro doesn’t know what he wants anymore.  ‘Dragon rider’ is out, so what other options does Shiro have?

“We’re fourteen!” Matt had protested when Shiro brought that up.  “That’s way too young to have a midlife crisis.  We go over career options in fifth year.  Why worry about it now?”

Shiro hadn’t had an answer.  Still doesn’t, except for the itch under his skin to do rather than wait.

Shiro doesn’t have a plan, but he needs one.  Not because his Head of House said he had to, not because he needs to decide his NEWTs today, but just because having one makes Shiro feel more secure.  If he has a future, maybe he doesn’t need a legacy.  If he was ready now, it didn’t matter so much that he wasn’t born to this world.

So Shiro doesn’t have a prefect badge, or pure blood, or a plan.

What Shiro does have is people looking out for him.

“Ah, Mr. Shirogane.  Just who I was looking for”

Turning, Shiro offers Professor Coran a bright smile.  “Good afternoon, sir.  Can I help you?”  

It’s a bit nerve wracking, speaking to the Deputy Headmaster.  Not because the man himself is intimidating or rude, no.  It’s because Shiro is always afraid of slipping.  Allura calls him ‘Uncle Coran’ _all the time,_ at least in private.  Shiro has no such relationship to the man and has never _meant_ to use the name.  He hasn’t, not yet, only fears it.  But someday he might, and at that point Shiro might as well pack his bags and go home.  It’s game over.  He’ll never recover from the embarrassment.

Professor Coran smoothes over his huge, orange mustache and gives Shiro a nod.  “Yes, I think you can.  I have a favor to ask you, you see.  Professor Iverson tells me there’s a young man who could use a bit of one-on-one help.”

Oh.  Shiro’s brows raise up.  It’s a physical effort not to turn around and make sure Professor Coran isn’t talking to someone behind him.  “I don’t mind helping.  What would I need to do?” he asks, a touch slowly.  That it’s Iverson actually makes sense - Transfiguration is one of the classes that Shiro can usually sneak ahead of both Matt and Allura.  

“Just help him practice his spellcasting,” Professor Coran replies easily, nodding to him.  “I know it’s a little much to ask of you, but you have excellent scores in your class, and I know you’ll be patient with him.  I’ve heard you help your classmates during lessons, after all.  Professor Iverson says you’ve done a wonderful job explaining theory and concepts to others.”

If Professor Coran’s trying to flatter Shiro, it’s working.  His chest puffs up slightly and he manages a shy smile.  “I can try,” Shrio offers, a mantra if there ever was one.  “But- is there a reason he’s not doing group tutoring?”

Lips thinning under his mustache, Professor Coran smoothes out his cobalt robes.  “He would do better in a one-on-one setting,” he replies.  “Everyone does better with personalized learning, after all.”

Which means _does not play well with others._

Shiro frowns.  This sounds like a lot of frustration, honestly.  Somehow Shiro doubts this kid wants the help.  

But this is also a chance to show he is trustworthy and responsible, isn’t it?  Besides, Shiro has never been one to back away from a challenge just because it sounded hard.

So Shiro squares his shoulders and nods.  “I’d be happy to meet with him.”

How hard can it be, anyway?  It’s first year spells.  Toothpicks into matches and all that. Shiro can do that spell with his back turned.  

“Excellent!”  Professor Coran claps Shiro on the back, hard enough that he nearly topples forward and drops his books.  “I’ll set up a meeting tomorrow.  You have a free period before lunch, correct?”

Shiro bites the inside of his cheeks to keep from making a face.  He had to give up his free period?   _Ugh._

Worth it.  It’s worth it.

“I do,” Shiro agrees, as if Professor Coran needs the confirmation.  He can see Shiro’s schedule, he knows exactly when Shiro’s free time is.

Beaming, Coran nods to him.  “Thank you, my boy.  This is a great help to us, and I know you’ll do a great job.”

“Of course, Sir,” Shiro replies, and even manages a smile.

Now Shiro has no plan, no legacy, no badge, and no free period.

What he have is a meeting with:

**01\. Keith**

Scruffy is the first word Shiro has to describe Keith.

His hair is long and ink black, falling heavily in his face as he stares Shiro down across the table, even before he sits.  By now, Shiro is used to boys with long hair.  It wasn’t so weird for Muggles, and it’s downright common among a certain kind of pureblood.  But those kinds are always well groomed, either tied back neatly or styled properly.  Keith looks like he just got up after falling off a broom.

Shiro has no idea what Keith’s background is, but it can’t be very impressive.  No fancy pureblood family with a detailed pedigree like a dog show would let their child run around looking like that.  It’s not just the hair, either.  His robes are wrinkled like he never bothers to hang them up, and his tie is knotted at the throat rather than properly tied.

Frankly, Keith looks like he rolled out of bed two minutes ago and happened to stumble into the seat.

Clearing his throat, Shiro offers Keith what’s supposed to be a welcoming smile.  “Hello. You’re Keith then, right?”

“Yeah.”

Nothing else.

Shiro stares at Keith.  Keith looks over Shiro’s shoulder, probably at the door.

Setting his jaw, Shiro sits down and pulls out his supplementary Transfiguration guide.  It’s for second year material, but it has a lot of good information on it anyway.  Besides, it’s all Shiro had to bring besides his own textbooks.  He hadn’t bought his school supplies for the year with this in mind.

Keith watches each move, nose crinkled slightly.  When he sees Shiro watching him, he looks away again, back to the far wall.

“I’m Shiro,” he finally says, offering his hand to shake.  Keith ignores it completely, so he pulls it back with a frown.  “Professor Coran says you could use a little extra help.”

All Shiro gets is a shrug.

Grinding his teeth, Shiro gives another smile, this one only barely not baring his teeth.  “That’s fine, we can all use a little help sometimes.  Can you walk me through what you’re doing now?”

Keith finally drags his eyes to Shiro’s face, gaze bland.  “Shouldn’t _Professor Coran_ have told you that, if he’s telling you so much?”

Well then.

Leaning back, Shiro crosses his arms, mirroring Keith’s posture.  The library is quiet at this time of day, with so many students in class.  The librarian keeps wandering by for lack of anyone else to watch or keep her busy.

“Look,” Shiro says, picking each word carefully.  “As far as I’m concerned, Professor Coran just asked me to go over your work with you and spend my free period here.  So we’re halfway there.  If you talk to me about what you’re doing in class, you’ve done your part.  Then you can do your reading or write essays or whatever you want so long as it looks like we’re doing work.  If you have a question, you can ask.  If not, you can leave when time is up, and we’ve both done our jobs.  Sound good?”

Keith sits up straighter and frowns at Shiro, as if trying to figure out his game.  “Awful sneaky for a Hufflepuff.”

“You’re awful sulky for a Gryffindor,” Shiro shoots back, jabbing his quill at Keith’s red and gold tie.

The silence hangs between them for a long minute.  Shiro holds his breath for it, hoping that this engagement will continue, rather than Keith going back to sullen silence.

Finally, Keith drags out his own textbook.  “We’re doing texture transfigurations,” he admits.  “Sand into stone.”

“Good stuff,” Shiro replies, deliberately light.  He cracks open his own book and pulls parchment out of his bag.  “Knowing Professor Iverson you probably already have a foot on it.  This would be a good time to get that done, if you haven’t yet.”  Technically Professor Coran asked Shiro to go over Keith’s spellwork, but he doubts they’ll get anywhere when Keith doesn’t want to be here.  So essays are a better midground.

Keith’s lips press thin, but doesn’t try to deny Shiro’s claim.  Instead he pulls out his own book and starts to read.

The first half an hour passes in near complete silence.  Shiro could almost forget that he was asked to tutor this first year, and that they weren’t just sharing a table for lack of options.

When Shiro finally glances up from his work, Keith’s brow is so furrowed that he could probably grip a quill with the wrinkles.  It’s clear something in his reading has lost him, but he doesn’t make a sound or ask a question, just reads the page over and over.

Finally Keith looks up and sees Shiro watching.  Immediately, he scowls and puts his hand over the page, like he’s trying to hide it from Shiro’s spying eyes.  “What?”

Touchy.  “Nothing,” Shiro replied, casual as he could manage.  “Just staring into space.  You still good?”

“Yes.”  Keith’s chin juts out, daring Shiro to contradict his words.

That’s not going to happen.  Shiro will get nothing from trying to wring this stone, so he just nods agreeably and goes back to outlining his essay.

The silence hangs for several more minutes before Keith takes a deep breath.  “Okay, but why-”  He stops himself, frowning deeply.

Without looking up, Shiro’s brows raise.  “Why what?”  He keeps his voice as neutral as possible, like he’s not really paying attention.  

“Why does it matter how coarse the sand is?” Keith asks.  “It’s all little rocks, right?”

Shiro hums.  “Transfiguration is visualization heavy.  You’ve got to really focus to get it right, especially on the details.  It’s easier to look at fine sand and think of it going smooth than to look at a bunch of rocks, right?”

His answer is more silence.  But when Shiro risks a glance up, Keith looks thoughtful.

Keith catches him looking again.  His thin shoulders go tense, but he holds Shiro’s gaze.  “Then what’s the point of the incantations, if it’s about what’s in your head?”

“Focus, and it channels the magic the correct way.  Like, you could draw something with a pencil that looks like charcoal, but it’s easier if you just use charcoal from the start.”

Slowly, Keith’s head bobs in a nod.  “Oh.”  He seems to digest that.  “Then we can think of whatever we want, though.  As long as it’s the right kind of thing.”

It’s true, so Shiro nods.  “Yeah, though Iverson doesn’t like it when you get too creative.  Trust me.”  Apparently a teapot styled to look like a giraffe was goofing off and not the assignment.  Which Shiro still thought was ridiculous, but part of being a good student was working with teacher expectations.

“But Iverson always shows us what he wants,” Keith pointed out.  “What’s the point of that if you can do anything?”

Shiro snorts before he can help it.  It’s not very professional, but neither is Keith.  “For people with less imagination.  It’s easier to focus on something if you can see it, right?  Next time you practice, try something you can picture well in your head, even if it’s not what Iverson wanted.  If you get it right with your own mental picture, you at least have the spell down.  It’s easier to change the details than to master the spell in the first place.”

“Oh,” Keith repeats, and this time his eyes are wide with realization.  “Yeah.  Okay.”  His mouth falls open and combined with his messy hair, it looks like Shiro threw something at his face.  Shiro’s lips curl up in response.  

As he processes the new perspective, Keith taps his quill against his book, leaving inky splotches over the pages.  Shiro’s hand itches for his wand to clean that up, but he doesn’t think Keith will appreciate it.  So instead he lets it go and turns back to his book.

Their session ends shortly after.  Shiro packs up silently, having gotten a foot into his own essay for Professor Iverson.  It’ll need good revision later, but it’s a start, at least.

Keith packs as well.  He moves deliberately, glancing between his bag and the table a few times, like he’s making sure everything is still there.  Then he glances at Shiro and opens his mouth, but closes it again before he says anything.

Pulling his bag onto his shoulders, Keith gives him a nod then starts for the door.

In that moment, Shiro has a choice.  He considers letting him go. Keith did his duty in showing up, and Shiro did his duty in trying.  Professor Coran couldn’t fault him for that.

But Hufflepuff was about putting in the work, and Shiro didn’t feel like he’d done that.  

It was also about being patient.  Shiro had been pretty damn patient over the past hour, but not as much as he could be.

Mostly, Shiro thought about that little moment of understanding Keith had.  Maybe it had been a weird and frustration session, but they’d gotten somewhere. Shiro wanted to see what else they could accomplish.

So he took a deep breath.

“Keith.”

Keith paused and turned around, frowning.  “What?”

“I’ll be here,” Shiro told him.  “Thursday.  Same time, same table.  Or one over, if this one is full.  You don’t have to, but if you want me to ask questions, or if you just want to have someone look over your essay before you turn it in, I’ll be here.”

Keith frowns at him.  “Why?  Professor Coran won’t care if you give up.”

Chin raising, Shiro met his gaze.  “I will.  And I don’t mind.  I’m not doing anything during my free periods anyway.”  Except flying.  But Shiro has plenty of other chances to fly as Quidditch season starts.  He should be working on homework anyway.

“You can do whatever you want,” Keith replies, lips thin and expression wary.  But he gives a single, jerky nod.  “Um.  Thank you.  For answering my question.”

Shiro nods back.  “I didn’t mind,” he replied.  “I like helping.”

Snorting, Keith eyes him.  “Okay.  Well, it was useful.  So thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Keith gives a last wave, barely more than a flick of his fingers.  Then he scampers out of the library like Shiro tried to set his shoes on fire.

Weird kid.

On Thursday, Shiro sits down at the table, more than half sure Keith isn’t going to show.  Why would he?  Clearly he didn’t really want the help.  It was forced on him by Iverson.

But at 10 AM on the dot, Keith drops his bag on the table and sits down.  He doesn’t look at Shiro, just drags out his textbook and a sheet of parchment paper.

It’s a good thing he’s not looking, because then he can’t see Shiro’s smile.

Their little meet-ups continue for the couple of weeks, though sometimes the times change.  Keith never asks more than one or two questions a session, and Shiro never offers anything Keith doesn’t ask for.  But it works, and they keep coming back each time.

Which is where they are when Shiro is tracked down by:

**02\. Pidge**

Shiro picks his head up and offers a flash of a smile.  “Hey, Katie.”

The address earns him a scowl and crossed arms.

Right, not Katie.

“Pidge,” he amends, hands up.  “Sorry, slipped my mind.”

Pidge nods, accepting that easily enough.  “Hi, Shiro.”

Remembering his manners, Shiro gestures to Keith.  “This is Keith.  He’s a first year too.  Keith, this is Pidge.”  He has to bite back calling her ‘Matt’s little sister’, because Keith doesn’t know who Matt is, probably.

“Hi,” Pidge repeats, giving him a distracted wave.  Keith mutters out what’s probably a greeting, but thankfully neither seems to care about the other’s lack of interest.  “Where’s Matt?”

Uh oh. It’s an innocent question with a loaded answer.  Shiro frowns at Pidge, unsure.  On one hand, she’s always been game when they got up to mischief at the Holts over the summer.  On the other, it’s always dangerous to give one of the Holt siblings information about the other.  They’re all too liable to use it.

But Shiro doesn’t have an answer other than the truth, so he sighs.  “Detention.”

“With who?” Pidge asks, not even blinking at the answer.

“Professor Harris.”

Nodding, Pidge sighs.  “That’s okay, then.  But he was supposed to help me practice in Charms.”  She eyes Shiro flatly.

Shiro nods back, totally emphasizing.  Matt was reliable in some ways. Shiro doesn’t doubt that if he needed back-up, Matt would offer it without a blink.  But in others... well, Shiro keeps track of the number of times Matt borrows a quill and forgets to give it back.  This year alone he’s up to six.

“I’ll remind him if I see him first,” Shiro offers.  “He should be out in a couple of hours.  When’s it due?”

Frowning, Pidge shrugs one shoulder.  “Tomorrow.”

Eugh.  That isn’t good.

“She can stay here,” Keith says suddenly.  “You’re tutoring anyway.”

Shiro turns to look at him, brows up.  Keith hasn’t picked his head up from his essay, but he does look at them from under his messy bangs.

“I’m tutoring you,” Shiro replies carefully.  “In Transfiguration.”

Snorting, Keith shrugs.  “You sit there and answer a couple of questions in an hour.  I’ll ask if I have more, but you might as well use the rest of the time.”

Glancing between them both, Shiro considers.  He doesn't mind covering for Matt, even if Charms isn’t his strong subject in the same way Transfiguration is.  Still, it’s first year work, and that isn’t hard.

His main worry is that Keith isn’t supposed to do well in groups.  But he’d volunteered so it had to be okay, right?  And Pidge is looking at him in that hopeful, wary way, same as when she wants to tag along with Matt, Allura and Shiro on their summer adventures.

Shiro’s so weak to those looks.  Matt says it’s because Shiro doesn’t have any siblings and he never got inoculated.  Allura says it’s because Shiro’s a soft touch.

Of the two, Allura is probably right.

Tapping the fingers of his right hand against the table, Shiro finally nods.  “Okay, but this is still your tutoring, Keith.  Don’t feel like you’re interrupting if you need help.”

Keith considers him, then nods as well.  “Sure.”

Well, alright then.

“Thanks,” Pidge breaths, pulling up another seat and dumping her bag onto the table.  It makes a startlingly loud thump in the otherwise quiet library.  The librarian stick her head out to frown at them.  Shiro offers an apologetic smile, and she backs off with a nod.

As he looks back, Keith is just looking down again.  He’d been just as aware of the Librarian’s watching eyes.

Huh.

“So what’s the problem?” Shiro asks, scooting over a little to better see her notes.

Pidge pulls out her wand and taps on her notes.  “I’m working on my mending charm.  But it’s not doing anything.”

Nodding, Shiro pulls off his tie and jabs his quill into it.  It leaves a black stain, but he had bought the ‘EZ-Vanish-Ink’ specifically in case it gets on his clothes.  He didn’t use it for essays just in case - no one wanted to lose an essay to a stray banishing charm - but for notes it works fine.  

More importantly, the nib makes an ugly hole right in the middle of his tie.

“There we go,” Shiro says, nodding.  “Something to practice on.”

Pidge gapes at him, eyes wide behind her glasses.  “You could have just ripped some parchment, you know.”

Shrugging, Shiro rests his chin on his palm and smiles.  “Yeah, but it’s easier to do this spell when there’s urgency.  No one cares about ripped parchment.  But if this doesn’t get fixed then you owe me a new tie.”

“That’s not fair!” Pidge’s mouth falls open in outrage.  “You did it yourself, I don’t owe you anything.”

Shiro only grins back.  “If you learn the spell you don’t have to worry about it.”

Clutching her wand tightly, Pidge huffs.  She shifts like she’s rethinking this whole plan, but then nods.   _“Reparo!”_

The tie twitches in place as a couple of the threads start to tug toward each other.  But the hole doesn’t close.

Hm.

“See?” Pidge mutters, poking the tie with her wand.  It flops over limply, looking almost dead.  The feeling is matched by Pidge’s dark frown.  “Nothing.”

“How many times have you tried?” Shiro asks.

“Six,” Pidge groans, dropping her head.  “I don’t know why I can’t get it.”

Across the table, Keith shoots her a flat look like she’s lost her mind, then raises his brows at Shiro.

It takes everything Shiro has not to snicker.  Yeah, the Holts are like that.  If they don’t get it right immediately, it’s the end of the world.

“You know, it took Matt a couple of days to get this spell right,” Shiro tells her, voice conversational.  Pidge twitches but doesn’t pick her head up.  “Like, two dozen tries, even.”

Finally glancing up through her bangs, Pidge tugs on the bottom of her Slytherin tie.  “Yeah?”

“So we’ll keep trying,” Shiro agrees.  “Go again.”

Pidge tries again, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed tightly.  The tie moves only a bit more this time, but at least she doesn’t look quite so defeated from the failure.

Picking up his own wand, Shiro holds it loosely in his fingers.  “Do the movement again, this time without casting.”  

Pidge does, quickly and impatiently.  “What about it?”

“Slow down.  You’re going through it so fast I can barely see what you’re doing.”

“It’s just a swish and flick,” Pidge protests.  “I can do the Levitation Charm no problem.”

Shiro shakes his head.  “Some spells need to be more specific.  Levitation is about as much wiggle room as you get in a spell, which is why it’s usually the first spell they have you do.  The movement should be as precise as your pronunciation.”

“Why?” Pidge groans, sounding sulky.  But if she actually expects an answer, she didn’t bother to wait for it.  Instead he turned her wand on the tie again.   _“Reparo!”_

This time, her movements are slow and deliberate, less natural than syllables of the spell.  It makes sense.  Latin sounds natural in Allura and Matt’s mouths - they grew up hearing it all the time.

Shiro’s tie twists on the desk as if pushed by an invisible hand.  But when it settles, the hole is much smaller.  

“Well done!” Shiro tells her, smiling.  “You didn’t need that much help at all, see?  Just to keep trying.  You’ve just about got it.”

Glancing at him, Pidge nods and gives a pleased smile.  “I guess, yeah.  It just didn’t work so I got worried.”

“Not all spells work on your first try,” Shiro tells her.  “Even when you know them really well.  Magic is a muscle, really.  Just because you know the mechanics of how to pick something up and you’ve seen someone else do it doesn’t mean you can.  You have to build up your strength.”

Pidge flops back in her chair, arms crossed.  Her eyes roam over the tie as if it’s at fault for her not getting the spell right.  “I don’t like not getting it.”

There’s not much Shiro can say to that except to shrug.  “The more you practice now, the faster it’ll be later,” he replied.  “And everyone else is in the same boat.”

“Why are you even doing this spell?”

Keith speaks so suddenly that Shiro jolts.  He’d gotten caught up in his lessons and nearly forgotten the other boy was there.  Oops. Not very tutor-like of him.

Frowning at him, Pidge shrugs.  “It’s in our textbook?”

“It’s not due for class yet,” Keith replies.  “So why do it now?”

Pidge’s expression suddenly shutters, her eyes rolling away to stare at the shelves.  “It seemed useful.”

Huh.  So much for _due tomorrow._

“Well, I’m happy to help you out if you need it.  Even if Matt isn’t in detention.”  Shiro taps his fingers against the side of his wand, considering.  “That includes any help outside of spells.”

Pidge glances at him, shrugging one shoulder.  It occurs to Shiro that he doesn’t really _know_ her well.  He’s eaten at her family table and played with her dog, but Matt has little patience for ‘Katie-bear’ tagging along when he has friends over.  Shiro’s memories of her are like wizard snapshots over each summer, each variations of _‘Can I come too?’_  He distinctly remembers that the first time they met, she was missing a tooth and whistled every time she called Matt stupid.

It’s honestly a little sad, that Shiro has known Pidge for almost four years but couldn’t say much about her.  It says something about him that Shiro doesn’t think he likes.

“I won’t even tell Matt,” he promises, surprising himself.  “If you say not to, anyway.”

That perks Pidge up.  “Promise?”

“Promise,” Shiro agrees.  “No matter what.  So long as it’s not dangerous.”  It’s a necessary addition, when it comes to the Holts.

Sighing, Pidge digs into her bag and pulls out the old camera that Matt used to carry around.  It had been out of date four years ago, and has since survived everything that Matt, Shiro and Allura could throw at it.  

The newest addition to that collection of dents and scratches is a deep scratch all along the front of the lense.

“I put it in my bag and the cap came off,” Pidge admits, shoulders slumping.  “And you know Matt will make fun of me forever if he finds out I broke it like this.  ‘Oh, I had it for three years, and you broke it in three days.’”

More likely than not, Matt would make one comment then help Pidge out.  But she seems to morose at the idea of being teased.  Shiro’s heart melts just a little.

“Well,” Shiro replies.  “We can try to fix it.  But this might be one for your mum.  The lens on these things are pretty specific, I think.”  That only makes Pidge’s head droop more, so Shiro holds up his hands.  “But we’ll try!  It’s already scratched, it’ll help a little.  And you can borrow my owl, or I’ll help you use one of the school ones.  That way Matt won’t wonder why you need Apollo.”

Finally, Pidge looks up.  “Yeah?  Okay.  We can try.”

Reaching out, Shiro ruffles Pidge’s hair.  It’s much shorter than when they met, now even more than Matt’s.  It suits her, though, and Shiro kind of likes it better.  It makes for better tussling.  “That’s the spirit.  Nothing a little hard work can’t solve.”

Pidge cracks a smile, even as she groans dramatically.  “I’m a Slytherin.  We don’t like hard work.  We like shortcuts.”

“And look where that got you,” Shiro replies primly.  “Right back here, with all that sneaking around wasted.  You could have just asked.”  

Glancing over, Shiro considers Keith.  He’s back to looking at his textbook, but he’s been on the same page for ten minutes now, and he hasn’t written a word of his essay in longer.  

So Shiro smiles at him.  “You want to help too?”

Keith’s head pops up.  “I don’t know anything about cameras,” he says, shoulders tight.  

“You don’t need to,” Shiro replied.  “It’s all the Mending Charm anyway.  You can practice with us.  It’s a good spell to learn, and then you’ll have practice for class.”

Considering that, Keith eyes him.  “It’s not Transfiguration.”

“If you ask me one Transfiguration question in the next half an hour, it’ll be just as good as normal.” Shiro smiles at him.  “If you don’t want to try, then you can just be our model.”

That makes Keith suddenly scowl.  His shoulders tighten up further and he puts his hand on the table, braced like he wants to jump up and run away.  “I don’t want to model.”

Woah, there.  That was some ingrained reaction.  “You don’t have to!” Shiro replies.  “I’m sorry, I thought it would be fun.  You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Keith continues to glare, nearly bristled in his chair like a cornered animal, but he finally breaks eye contact.  “Okay.”

Jeez, alright.  That wasn’t worrying or anything.  “Let’s practice on the tie first, okay?  Since you’ve never done it before.”

Pulling out his wand, Keith gives a short nod.   _“Reparo!”_ He jabs the wand down, more of a stab than a flick.

Rather than stitch up the rest of the way, the tie skitters away like a startled bug, only stopping when it hits Pidge’s books.

Despite knowing that it was just the force of the spell pushing the tie around, Shiro couldn’t help scooting back.  Objects moving on their own can still creep Shiro out, even after four years of being a wizard.

Keith reaches over and picks up the tie, frowning at the hole.  “Guess I don’t have the muscles, yet.”

“You need to slow down, too,” Shiro tells him.  “You’re going even faster than Pidge.”

Frowning at him, Keith shrugged.  “So?  Duelists cast fast.”

“Only because they practice first!  They get really good at the spells so they can fire them off.  They don’t start that quick.  Especially for their first few charms.  You have to have patience with it.  With yourself.  Remember we talked about focus?  Patience... it yields focus.”

Keith’s nose crinkles. “What does that even _mean?”_

Shiro sighs.  First years.  Smaller words.  “It means you can’t do a good job of something until you give yourself permission and slow down and do it right.  Get good at it first, and when you have it down, _then_ you can worry about quick drawing.”

“Oh.”  With a last glance over, Keith takes a deep breath.   _“Reparo!”_

The hole fixes itself the rest of the way.  There’s still a noticeable difference in color, both from the ink and from the shaky spellwork, but it’s definitely a success.

“Way to go!” Shiro beams at Keith.  “See?  That’s the ticket.”

Next to him, Pidge narrows her eyes but nods.  It’s the same expression Matt gets when Allura gets a spell faster than him - grudging respect and competitive fire.

Glancing between them, Keith frowns like he’s looking for the trick.  Then, slowly, he smiles.

It’s the first time Shiro sees Keith smile. It’s surprisingly soft for such an otherwise gruff first year, like he’s surprised at being so happy.

It also makes Shiro’s chest tighten.  Why should an eleven year old feel that way?

“Alright, let’s try and fix the lens,” Shiro says.  He carefully pops it off the camera and sets it down.  “We can trade off until the scratch is gone, and then we’ll see if we got the curve of it right.  Okay?”

Chin up, Pidge nods.  “Sounds good to me.”  She glances at Keith and offers a toothy smile.  “I bet I get it first.”

Shiro nearly opens his mouth to scold her, but Keith _grins_ back.  “I bet not.”

Oh.  Huh.

Well, if a little competition did them good, Shiro wasn’t about to complain.  “It’s Pidge’s camera, so she can go first.”

Keith nods agreeably at that, thankfully, and soon the pair of them are trading off Mending Charms.  The crack fades quickly, shortening with each cry, but it takes a while before it fully vanishes.  By the end, both first years seem to have totally forgotten their bet, or at least don’t care enough to bring it up.

Watching them playfully jostle and grin, Shiro wondered why Keith hadn’t done well in his other tutoring group.  He clearly _does_ get along with others, when someone makes the effort to get past the scruff.

Maybe no one had.  Or maybe Professor Coran had been right - Keith just did better with closer focus.

“Okay,” Shiro called, picking up the lense and snapping it back into place.  “Let’s give it a shot.”  He hefts up the camera, smiling at the familiar, battered weight of it.  “I know you said you don’t want to model, Keith, but I could take a picture of both of you.”

Keith hesitates, still unsure, but Pidge presses close to his side and offers a huge, toothy grin.  Finally, he relaxes again and offers a much smaller smile, nearly shy.

Shiro’s smiling too as he takes the picture.

When the photograph pops out, both of them are distorted like a funhouse mirror.

“Cool!”  Pidge cries, holding it up.

The cry is loud enough to earn them another peek from the librarian.  Shiro shoots her another smile, then quietly casts a Silencing Charm.  Not that it should matter.  The only other person in the library is a frazzled looking Gryffindor seventh year in the back, and she’s not paying them any attention.

“Well, that didn’t work,” Shiro comments.  “I’ll try next.”

Pidge shakes her head and snags the camera back from him.  “Not yet.  We need to do you, first.”

Wincing, Shiro holds up his hand and shakes his head.  Yeah, it’s a funny effect, but those photos could end up in someone else’s hands.  Worse, it could end up in _Matt’s_ hands, and he’d show Allura.  They wouldn’t tease too bad, but it still makes his stomach drop to think about.  Shiro would rather look cool.

But Keith glances at him through those shaggy bangs.  “You took our picture.  It’s only fair.”

Well.  He’s not wrong.  

Pidge ‘oohs’ quietly.  “Yeah, Shiro, it’s not very Hufflepuff of you.”

Sighing, Shiro drops his hands.  “Alright.”  It’s a silly reaction anyway.  Shiro’s not sure why it scares him like this.  It’s not like his friends haven’t seen him looking weird before.  As Shiro gets older, looking good matters more, though he’s not sure what changed.

Still, the first years are right.  So Shiro sighs and makes his lips curl up.

Taking his picture, Pidge snorts over it.  “Very flattering.”

The photo shows Shiro, a strained, awkward smile on his face.  There’s a smattering of acne on the edge of his jaw, normally subtle but made obvious by the stretched effect of the warped lens.  His scar is even more obvious, stretched bright pink and thick over his nose.

“Okay, I need that photo,” Shiro mutters, grabbing for it.

But Pidge is too quick.  She hands it off to Keith instead.  “I have way more embarrassing pictures of you,” she announces, like that’s something to be proud of.  “Matt sent them home all the time.  There’s that one of the robes with the giant cartoon dragon on the back.”

Oh, _Merlin._

“Katie!” Shiro snaps, all his patience and focus falling apart.  He really, _really_ doesn’t want that picture of him floating around.  “Ugh, _Pidge._  Sorry. But let me have it.”

Keith glances between them, then steps forward and hands Shiro the photo.

Groaning, Pidge flops down dramatically.  “Aww, don’t ruin the fun.”

“He doesn’t like it,” Keith says. His hands clench by his side, knuckles gone white.   “Don’t be that way.”

Shiro crumples the photo and shoves it in his pocket.  “Hey, it’s okay, Keith, I know she’s just teasing.  I’m a family friend of hers.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Keith insists, voice still painfully tight.  “Even if there’s a relationship.”

Shiro’s stomach drops.

What had this kid gone through to have this kind of reaction?

From her wide eyes, Pidge must have had the same thought.  “I’m sorry, Shiro.  I was just teasing.”

“I know,” Shiro replied.  “You’re okay.  It’s fun to tease, but let’s go back to Charms.”  He looks over at Keith, who ducks his head, shoulders nearly up to his ears.  “Thank you, Keith.  I appreciate it.  Really.”

Keith gives a tiny nod and sits back down, reverting back to the quiet, scruffy boy he’d been the past two weeks.

One step forward, two steps back.

Taking the lens off again, Shiro tries his own spell, then takes a picture of the tie.  The photograph comes out better, but still warped, like a fisheye lens.  “Sorry, Pidge.  We’ll owl your mum.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t my smartest idea.”  Pidge settles at the table as well.  “Mum will fuss, but she won’t be as bad as Matt.  So it works out.”  She frowns across the table at Keith.  “Hey.  Um.  Are you okay?”

Keith doesn’t look up.  “Yeah.”

Biting her bottom lip, Pidge glances at Shiro, brows up.   He offers a smile because he doesn’t know what else to do, and she finally nods back.  “Um, I should go.  Thanks for letting me crash your tutoring.”

“No problem.  If you need help with more work, let me know.”

Pidge nods.  “I might, actually.  Matt’s a terrible tutor.  He tells me to try harder.  If I still don’t get it, he says I’m bad at magic and I should give up now.”

Biting back a smile, Shiro shrugs.  “Then you get mad and do it, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s the principle of the thing.”  She pushes off the table.  “Bye, Shiro.  And thanks, Keith.  It was good meeting you.”

Finally, Keith’s head tilts up again.  “Um.  Yeah.  You too.”

As far as goodbyes go, it’s hardly poetic, but it’s also better than Shiro usually got.  Thankfully Pidge just nods and bounds away, probably already mentally composing a letter to her mother about how the lens breaking was not at all her fault.

“So,” Shiro says, turning back to Keith.  “Think of a Transfiguration question yet?”

PIcking his head up, Keith tilts his head.  “Two.  Only one’s about Transfiguration.  Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

Keith considers Shiro, tapping his wand against the table.  “Okay.  Why can’t I use Transfiguration to repair the tie?  Why use a charm?”

The question earns a startled laugh out of Shiro.  “Oh, man.  You could.  You totally could, I think.  I don’t know how you would, but sure.  It’d just be way harder.  There’s always a ton of ways to solve every problem. Most spells are just trying to find the most direct route, especially in Charms.  Like, I could levitate a feather by making the wind blow under it, or by making it magnetic, or by making a string and attacking that string to the ceiling.  But levitating is easiest path.”

It’s a lot to absorb, but Keith nods thoughtfully.  He continues to tap, a distracting noise that makes Shiro glad he cast the Silencing Charm.  “That makes sense.  The other one is- well.  Why did you agree to do this?”

“To repair the camera?” Shiro asks carefully.  “Because Pidge is a friend.” Kind of.  Sibling friend, at least.  Maybe regular friend now.  “And because I like that camera.  I have a lot of good memories of it.  I’d like to fix it if I can.”

Keith shakes his head, a hint of a scowl on his lips.  “No, I mean, this.  All of this.  The tutoring.”

Oh.

Considering him, Shiro leans back in his chair.

If there was one thing Keith seems to really like, it’s being direct.  Shiro considers himself an honest person, but he was willing to muffle that for the sake of being polite and sparing feelings.

With Keith, that didn’t fly.  So Shiro’s got to be open.

“At first, I did it because Professor Coran asked me to,” Shiro says.  “I want to be Prefect next year, and it seemed to be a good way to prove I’m responsible.”

Swallowing hard, Keith gave a jerky nod.  “That makes sense.”  He started to pack his bags, gaze distant.

Shiro held up a hand to stop him.  “I could have stopped there.  Professor Coran would have understood if we didn’t keep it up.  But I wanted to.  You’re quiet, and you’re kind of snappy, but you seem like a good guy.  I don’t mind sharing a table with you or answering questions. It’s fun to explain magic to someone.  What you ask is usually smart and I don’t have to repeat myself a hundred times, which is what I was afraid of.  Plus, you seem like you could use someone to listen to you.”

Eyes wide, Keith suddenly scowls.  “What do you mean by _that?”_

“I mean- I don’t know, I guess you could use a friend.  You seemed lonely.  And you’re fine to hang out with.  That’s how most friendships start, anyway.”

Clutching his books to his chest, Keith frowns at him.  “Friendships?”

Shiro nods.  “Yeah.  If you want.  Why not?”

This time the silence is thoughtful.  Keith’s eyes dart over Shiro’s face, looking for some sign of a lie.  “Oh.  You really don’t care?”

“About what?” Shiro asks.

Keith’s mouth falls open and he sits down.  “Oh.  I thought- you were always hanging out with Purebloods.  I thought you knew.”

The fact that Keith knows his best friends are Purebloods is a little worrying, but the three of them stand out.  Allura especially, as the Headmaster’s daughter.  “We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff,” Shiro admits.  “Is there something I should know?”

“No,” Keith replies back.  “It’s no one’s business.”

“Okay, then.  Doesn’t matter to me.  I don’t really care about Pureblood gossip or whatever.”  Shiro smiles, because he has that luxury.

Once in awhile, not having a legacy does work out for him.  No one expects him to give a crap about whose family is in what kind of feud with someone else’s, blah blah blah.

Keith’s mouth falls open.  Then he gives another of those shy smiles.  “Okay.  Can we keep meeting for tutoring?”

“Sure,” Shiro agrees, nodding.  “I’d like that.”

Nodding, Keith finishes packing up, and hands Shiro his tie.  “Is it going to be okay?”

A Mending Charm fixes up the remaining rough edges, and a quick Vanishing Charm gets rid of the stain.  “Yup.  See?”  Shiro pulls it on, tying it up quickly.  

Keith’s fingers come up to touch his own tie, thumb running over the messy knot at the base of his throat.

It’s on the tip of Shiro’s tongue to ask to show him how to tie it properly, but he refrains.  It doesn’t seem like the sort of comment Keith will appreciate.

The thought of that messy tie is on Shiro’s mind when he first meets:

**03\. Lance**

The box of Mandrake leaves is _heavy,_ and Shiro’s not exactly sure how he got roped into this.  Allura had been speaking with Professor Montgomery, and Shiro stayed behind to wait for her, and next thing he knew he’s helping deliver supplies all over the school.

Worse, he can’t even charm it lighter, not with such fragile magical components.  So Shiro’s stuck literally dragging the thing down to the dungeons to the Potions classroom.

Maybe Shiro’s father has a point about getting out of shape. Magic does reduce physical labor.

“Professor Harris?” Shiro calls, using his foot to knock on the door. It’s rude, but Shiro doesn’t exactly have a free hand.  “Professor Montgomery sent these for you.”

There’s a click, then the door opens on its own.  Shiro steps in gratefully, his fingers slipping on the uncomfortable edge of the wooden box.  If he doesn’t get this down soon, the Potions classroom is going to have a nice, leafy carpet.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Shirogane,” Professor Harris greets.  “Bring those over here, please.”

Stumbling over, Shiro hides his face behind the edge of the box.  Harris doesn’t need to see Shiro sticking out his tongue.

“Here is fine,” the professor says, tapping on one of the tables.  Shiro sets it down with a grateful grunt, rolling his shoulders.  They ache from the effort, as do his fingers.  

Okay, yeah, his dad _definitely_ has a point.

“These are the Mandrake leaves,” Shiro tells him, voice still ragged and breathy.  “Professor Montgomery said you needed them right away.”

Professor Harris nods, but it’s distracted.  His eyes are locked farther into the classroom.  

Following his gaze, Shiro pauses when he realizes there’s another student there.  Judging by his size, he’s probably a first year, and his robes are thrown over his crumpled shirt and tie like an afterthought.  When he sees Shiro’s gaze, he ducks down over his parchment and pretends he hadn’t been watching.

“I need them for a class first thing tomorrow morning, yes,” Professor Harris agrees.  “Thank you for your help, Mr. Shirogane.  It’s very appreciated.”  Despite his words, his tone is bored and flat.

Well, Harris is a jerk.  Nothing new about that.  But he’s never a jerk in a way Shiro can protest, though Allura regularly has dark things to say to her father.

“No problem, sir,” Shiro replies, right hand braced on the deck.  It twinges and aches from the treatment.  “Glad to help.”

Professor Harris looks him over, brows up and expression unimpressed.  “Take a few minutes before you keel over, Mr. Shirogane.  I don’t want you falling down the stairs on the way back up.”

Nodding, Shiro sits down.  It was a long walk from the greenhouse, after all, and he feels like he’s earned the right to be a bit dramatic over it.

While he catches his breath, Harris moves over to the Gryffindor’s desk.  “I assume you’re finished, if you’re so uninterested in your work.”

The Gryffindor’s chin comes up, and his eyes dart to Shiro.  “Yeah, all done,” he declares, tone pure bravado.

Oh, Gryffindors.

Harris nods and pulls out a quill, already dripping with red ink.  He starts to correct it right there in front of the poor first year, staining the whole thing liberally with red.  The more he writes, the more the boy wilts.

“Better,” Professor Harris says, in tones that suggest that a crup could have done better than the previous benchmark.  “But still not a passing grade.”

The first year deflates.  “Oh.”

In that moment, with his dark hair in front of his eyes and his poorly knotted tie, Shiro’s heart goes out to the little Gryffindor.  Part of it is that he reminds Shiro of Keith, true, but part of it is that Harris is just a jerk.  Shiro can’t just sit here and watch it happen.  He wants to be a Prefect, and that means stepping out of his comfort zone to help.

“Is this a make-up exam?” Shiro asks.  Harris’ brows jump up, and the Gryffindor’s cheeks go bright red.  “I’m sorry to interrupt.  I’ve clearly been a distraction.  Since that’s the case, it seems fair I help him out before he redoes it.  This wasn’t regulation testing conditions, after all.”  

Harris glances between them both.  Shiro suspects he’s torn between the ridiculous request and his desire not to have to deal with a student who doesn’t get the material.  “I’m sure you have better things to be doing, Mr. Shirogane.”

“No, sir,” Shiro replies, as cheerful as he can manage.  “I tutor during my free periods anyway, and if I had better things to do- well, to be honest, I wouldn’t be carrying around boxes of Mandrake leaves.”

There’s a flash of a grin from the first year before he can control himself.  Shiro has to fight off his own smile in response.

Finally, the temptation of avoiding what would no doubt be a painful remedial session wins out.  Harris nods.  “That would be acceptable.  If you need any clarification, I’ll be in my office.  I will be leaving the door open, and if there’s more than tutoring happening, I will hear it.”

Good enough.  Shiro nods and smiles back, as if this is all perfectly normal.  “Sounds good, professor.”

With a last look at them both, Harris pushes the parchment toward the first year, then moves into his attached office.  True to his word, the door stays wide open, but Shiro can’t see his desk from here.

As Harris leaves, it occurs to Shiro what he just agreed to do.

Well, it can’t be that bad, can it?  Between Keith’s tutoring and Pidge’s occasional question bombs, Shiro’s gotten alright at this tutoring thing.

So he stands up and pulls out the chair next to the Gryffindor, offering him a smile.  “Hi.  I’m Shiro.”

The first year goggles up at him.  “I know!”  At Shiro’s blank look, he bites his bottom lip.  “You’re on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.”

Oh, Quidditch nut.  That makes sense.  “Yeah, I am. Chaser.”  Shiro earns himself a beaming smile for that.  “We can talk about that later if you want, but we should work on Potions now.”

The first year droops but nods.  “Yeah.  Um, I’m Lance, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Lance.”  Shiro pulls the marked paper closer, his nose crinkling when he smears the still wet red ink.  It coats the fingers of his right hand.  Eugh.  “So what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know,” Lance groans.  “Everyone else has this stupid Boil Cure down.”

Shiro’s brows raise.  “I didn’t ask if everyone else got it.  That’s not important if they do or not.  I want to know what’s tripping _you_ up.”

Glancing up at him again, Lance squints at Shiro like he’s missing the point.  When Shiro just stares back, he sighs and shrugs.  “I don’t know.  It should be easy, right?  It’s just magic cooking.”

Shiro’s breath catches in his throat, thankfully saving him from squeaking or laughing.  “You’re not wrong, but it’s not exactly the same thing.”

Rolling his eyes, Lance slumps back in his chair.  “Yeah, obviously.  No one eats nettles or Mandrake leaves or lizard eyes or whatever.”

“Not anyone I’ve eaten with,” Shiro agrees.  “But for more reasons than that.  It’s more like baking, if it’s anything.”

Lance looks at him balefully.  “That’s what Hunk says too.”

Shiro doesn’t know who this Hunk is, but he nods anyway.  “Hunk is right.”

That gets him a deep sigh.  “I don’t see the difference.”

“Well, baking is more precise.  It’s really important that you add the right ingredients in the right proportions, otherwise you mess up the whole thing.  There’s a lot of precise chemistry in it.”  Shiro offers a smile.  “Not that I would know from experience.  I’m awful at both cooking and baking.”

That finally makes the kid smile, bright and easy.  “You can’t cook?”

“Nope,” Shiro replied.  “But I can do potions.  You just have to be careful and slow down.”

Lance groans at that, head slumping over the back of the chair.  “But it’s so boring!”

All comparisons to Keith have officially died in Shiro’s head.  The pair of them are as far apart in personality and noise level as Shiro could imagine.  “Yeah, but you have to do it for at least 5 more years.  Wouldn’t you rather do it right the first time, and not have to keep coming in for remedial lessons?”

Groaning again, Lance gives a reluctant nod.  “Yeah.  I guess it kind of is twice as much Potions. Ugh.  But I’m still bad at it.  How am I supposed to know how many times to stir counter clockwise in the third step?”

Shiro bites back his opinions on Harris’ test making skills for the moment.  “Memorization.”

Slumping forward, Lance presses his face to the table.  “I’m doomed.”

“No, you’re not.  Do you have parchment with you?”

Lance picks his head up to give Shiro a baleful eye, but obediently pulls out a sheet of parchment and a quill.

Taking both, Shiro started to copy down the different steps and ingredients.  Then he ripped the paper apart by steps and labeled the backs.  Then he set them down in front of Lance.  “Ever heard of flash cards?”

Picking up one of the ripped tatters, Lance frowns.  “No.  Do they do something?”

Probably not Muggleborn, then.  “Help you memorize,” Shiro replies.  “You can check yourself this way.  You go through, and you see which ones you know, and which ones you don’t.  Then you flip it over to see the answer, and you do that over and over until you know all of them.  When you need the information for a test, you’ll have it in your head.”

Lance stares at the cards in dismay.   “But that’s so _boring!”_

“Memorization is boring,” Shiro replied primly.  “But so’s remedial Potions.”

Lips pressing thin, Lance considers that.  Then he slaps his hand over the pile and picks it up, shuffling.  He looks at the top one, crinkles his nose, and flips it over.  “This is going to take forever.”

“Not as long as you think it will,” Shiro replied.  “When you have to challenge yourself and play a game like this, it gets easier.  You can even keep score.  Make a note of how many you’d get right on a test, and try to do better next time.”

Eyes brightening, Lance nods and bends over the impromptu cards with more enthusiasm.  He starts to flip through them quickly, glancing over the back then slamming them down.

Getting half right quickly turns into three quarters, then into all but two, until finally Lance slaps the pile back down and raises his arms above his head.  “Victory!”

“See, you did it,” Shiro replied.  “Didn’t take long at all when you focused.  Think you can take the test again?”

“Um.”  Lance bites his bottom lip, looking over the test again.  But he slowly nods.  “I think so.”

Nodding, Shiro reaches up and ruffles his hair, just like he did for Pidge.  Rather than faux-grumpy looks, it got him another sudden, sunshine smile.  “I think you can, too.  I’ll tell Harris you’re ready.”

“Okay.”  Lance’s chest puffs out like Shiro had told him he’d personally saved the wizarding world.  “I’m going to ace it, just you watch.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”  Shiro smiles at him, then stands up.  “But, I have to admit, I lied to Harris.  I do have stuff to do.  So I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Lance nods agreeably.  “Okay.  Definitely talk to you later.  About Quidditch.  Thanks for helping, and the out with Harris.”

“Right, I haven’t forgotten Quidditch.  And you’re welcome.”  With a last smile and wave, Shiro sticks his head into Harris’ office to let him know, then makes his escape.

The next morning at breakfast, Lance tracks Shiro down at the Hufflepuff table.  He waves his test over his head, with a proud score of Exceeds Expectations, and a smile a mile wide.

Lance also brings:

**04\. Hunk**

“Oh, hey,” Shiro greets, giving the other first year a smile.  He knows this one.  Maybe not by name, but they share a common room and a table.  

Mind, Shiro’s also pretty sure Hunk isn’t this kid’s given name.  But the first year nods and smiles when Lance introduces him, so apparently it’s normal for him.  Shiro’s been pretty good about keeping to ‘Pidge’.  Hunk isn’t any weirder.

“Hi,” Hunk replies, voice almost inaudible over the cheerful din of the Hufflepuff table.

Apparently that’s enough introductions, because Lance practically shoves his remedial test under Shiro’s nose.  “Look!  An Exceeds Expectations.”

Shiro could have seen that from a more respectful distance, but he grins as he takes the parchment.  “Great job!  Told you that you could do it.”

At first, Lance beams under the attention, looking very pleased with himself indeed.  But the expression falls as he takes the paper back.  “It’s not exactly aceing, though.”

“You improved by a lot in less than ten minutes,” Shiro reminds him, amused at the sudden mood swap.  “I consider that aceing.”

Lance’s smile returns immediately.  He puts his hand behind Hunk’s back and shoves him forward one half-step.  “I told Hunk here about what you said, too.  He has some questions.”

Cheeks pinking, Hunk gapes at Lance in betrayal.  “Not really!  I just thought it was a good idea.”  He offers Shiro a shy smile, fingers playing at the bottom of his sleeves.  “I didn’t think about flash cards.  It’s weird, what they don’t have.  Like pens.”

Another Muggleborn, then.  Despite himself, Shiro relaxes.  “I know what you mean.  I’m still not used to quills.”

“Pens?” Lance asks, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t want for a response, just clapping Hunk on the shoulder.  “He totally had questions.  Like, _a hundred._  I didn’t know the answers but I figured since you helped out, you might.  Is that okay?”

Looking between them both, Shiro considers.  He’s no expert at potions, certainly, and frankly Shiro has a lot on his plate already.

But it’s not asking a lot, really.  Just a few questions.  And how complicated can it be, anyway?  They’re making color-changing potions, not the Draught of Living Death.

“Sure,” Shiro replies.  “You want to sit with me for breakfast?”

Lance plops down immediately, taking the seat to Shiro’s right.  After a moment’s hesitation, Hunk takes the seat next to him, glancing nervously down the table.  “Is Lance allowed to be here?”

Looking around, Shiro shrugs.  “Eh.  Matt, Allura and I swap around all the time.  Most people tend to, at least once in awhile.  And if I say I’m tutoring you, they’ll leave it be.”

Hunk nods slowly, relaxing.  “Okay.”  He goes quiet, then, picking out breakfast foods from the table.  From the tense set of his shoulders and the way he keeps looking over, Shiro suspects he isn’t comfortable jumping right into the question-asking.

Which isn’t a problem, because Lance fills the silence.  “How’d you get on the team?”

Shiro pauses, not sure what Lance is talking about, before it clicks.  Right.  Quidditch.  “I tried out,” Shiro drawls.

Groaning, Lance nudges Shiro’s side.  “You know what I mean!  What’d you do?  What kind of sweet tricks can you do?”

“I demonstrated that I could work well with the other two Chasers,” Shiro replied.  “It’s a school team.  I don’t need to pull a Wronski Fret.”

“Only Seekers do those,” Lance corrects, flapping a hand.  “That’s at I am.  A Seeker.”

He sounds so sure of himself, but it’s the same tone as when Harris asked him if he was done with his test.  Bluster.

Still, Shiro can’t help grinning at him. “You look like one.”  When Lance’s chest puffs out, Shiro’s smile grows.  “Small.”

Lance’s mouth falls open in outrage.  “I’m not small!  I’m tall, even!”

Raising one hand to his hairline, Shiro makes a show of measuring his height to Lance’s.  “Dunno, you seem pretty small to me.”

“Only ‘cause you’re old and crusty!” Lance insists.  His cheeks are flushed pink and his eyes bright, but he doesn’t seem truly offended.  

Laughing, Shiro nudges over a pitcher of milk.  “Well, you have to eat breakfast if you’re going to get bigger than me.  I have three crusty years on you.”

Lance snatches the pitcher up and fills his goblet, then chugs the whole thing in one go.  He holds Shiro’s gaze in open challenge, but then his smile falls off his face.  “Um.”

“Don’t feel so good?” Shiro asks, his own smile falling.  Drinking milk too fast was supposed to be bad for the stomach, right?

Swallowing hard, Lance puts his hands in his lap.  “I’ll be okay.”

Hunk pats Lance’s shoulder.  His worried frown cuts deep lines through the bottom of his face.  “You sure?  You want to go to the bathroom?”

Lance’s eyes cut to Shiro for a moment, then he shakes his head hard.  “No, m’okay.  I just need a minute.”

Glancing at Shiro, Hunk sighs but doesn’t keep pushing.  He rubs over Lance’s back until he relaxes, then clears his throat.  “Um.  Should I ask questions, now?”

“If you want,” Shiro replies.  He looks over Lance’s face, but he seems mostly alright, if slightly queasy.  “No pressure.”

Hunk nods agreeably.  Now that Lance is temporarily indisposed, he seems obligated to fill the space.  “Um.  I was wondering about a few of the ingredients.”

Not a great topic for breakfast, but Shiro nods agreeably anyway.  “Sure, what about them?  I might not be able to answer everything, but I might be able to point you to the right books, at least.  Or someone to ask.”

“That’s okay, I don’t think you’ll know everything.”  Hunk tilts his head.  “Why do you only add nettles when you stir counter-clockwise?”

It’s such an unexpected question from a _first year_ that Shiro pauses.  How had Hunk even noticed that?  They’ve only made, like, three potions so far, if Shiro remembers his first year right.  Clearly, he’d been looking it up.  “Um.  I don’t know why nettles specifically, but the different stirring directions is usually for how you want the properties to infuse.  Counter-clockwise tends to get you a milder effect, I think.”  

Hunk tilts his head, considering that.  “But nettles are pretty mild anyway, right?”

 _Jeez._  “Yeah, they are, I think.  If I had to guess, it’s because of the way they sting.  It might avoid that effect in the potion?”  Shiro frowns, tapping his right fingers against the table.  Then he dives into his back, pulling out his Potions textbook.  A glance through the index gets him the page on nettles, and he flips over.  “Let’s see.  If it’s not in here, the library has a great encyclopedia for potions ingredients.  I mostly use it for what you’re not supposed to add together and why, but it’d have stuff like stirring too.”

Hunk’s eyes go bright and eager.  He leans forward, nearly mushing into Lance in his enthusiasm.

Suddenly, their friendship makes a lot more sense.  They didn’t seem to be excitable about the same things, but it was clear they were both eager.  

“Can you tell me the name of it?  Do you know if Flourish and Blotts sells it?”

“Uh, sure.  I’ll write it down for you.” Shiro pulls out a quill, then makes a face at Hunk over it.  Hunk smiles, clapping his hand over his mouth to hide the expression.  Scribbling down the title, he hands it over.  “If you ever need a hand getting used to quills, let me know.  Had you used one before Hogwarts?”

Hunk nods.  “Oh, yeah.  I’m Halfblood, so I’ve had magical stuff around the house.  We live in a Muggle neighborhood, though, and I went to primary and all that.  I’m used to pens.”

“All this pens stuff,” Lance mutters.  “What’s so special about them?  What’s wrong with quills?”

“The bits of feather get everywhere,” Shiro says flatly.

Hunk’s lips quirk up.  “Refilling is messy.”

“The nibs break on anything that isn’t expensive.”

“You can’t just _erase,_ you need to ask an upper year.”

“I can do that for you,” Shiro offers.  “I’d practice with it, it’s not a hard spell.  They should really teach it earlier.”

Hunk’s head bobs in agreement.  “I know!  But I didn’t want to skip ahead in the books.”

Lance’s hand shoots into the air, his nausea apparently forgotten.  “I do!  I want to skip around!”

Laughing at their enthusiasm, Shiro nods.  “Well, just let me know when.  I’ll find some time to help you out.  And if you want to ask at meals or in the common room, that’s okay too.”

Hunk bites his bottom lip, eyes bright.  “It’s really okay to just bug you like that?”

“You’re not bugging me,” Shiro insists.  “I like doing this.  I do tutoring anyway, sometimes.  It’s no problem if you need help.”

“You’re really good at it,” Lance tells him, completely earnest.  

Shiro’s chest melts like hot water over ice cream.  “Yeah?  Thank you.  I mean, all I did was show you flashcards. Hunk could have helped you if he’d known to.”

Shaking his head, Lance pokes Shiro’s arm.  “Nope.  You made it seem easy, like I could do it.  And then I did it!  So you’re good at this.  You’ll be good at helping Hunk, too.”  He glances over, eyes wide and lips pressed together significantly, an obvious hint.

Well, Shiro had already figured out that Hunk was a bit nervous.  That he might need some extra encouragement here made sense.  What did surprise Shiro was that Lance was savvy and comfortable enough to ask Shiro for the help.

Maybe Shiro’s not the right person to provide the support Hunk needs, but he can’t exactly say no, either.  He doesn’t even want to.  There’s something nice about going over these basic concepts and watching first years flourish.  

“Well, I’m happy to help.  Just let me know.  Sometimes I won’t be able make time to talk, but I’ll do my best, okay?”

Hunk beams at him, hands folded against his chest.  “Yeah.  Thank you, Shiro.”

“No problem,” he replies, and means it.

Shiro keeps meaning it even when Hunk takes him at his word, peppering him with questions at all times of day.  Really, it’s not a big deal.  Shiro either knows it, looks it up quickly, or tells him about a book to look for.  A couple of minutes at a time, tops.  

It just happens a _lot._

So, Shiro doesn’t have a plan, a legacy, a badge.

And between classes, tutoring Keith, helping Pidge, talking Quidditch with Lance, and answering Hunk’s questions, Shiro lacks something else.

Free time.

As with most of his problems, there’s only two people Shiro can really turn to.

**05\. Matt and Allura**

Patting on top of Shiro’s head, Allura offers a smile.  “I think it’s nice, what you’re doing.  Helping people in need.”

“First years need a lot of help,” Matt drawls.  They’ve taken over one of Ravenclaw’s couches, because it’s the safest place for Shiro to be right now.  Gryffindor has Lance and Keith, Hufflepuff has Hunk and Slytherin has Pidge.  If he’s in any of those places, they might have questions or needs and Shiro just _can’t._

Shiro nods morosely, pressing his face further into the cushion.  He’s completely sprawled out, taking up most of the couch himself.  Allura takes up the remaining space, knees up to her chest as she pokes through Shiro’s bangs.  Rather than sit somewhere else, Matt just plopped down on Shiro’s lower legs.  No amount of kicking dislodged him, so Shiro just gave up.

“Are you even getting your homework done?” Matt asks.  “You’ve been running ragged for weeks now.”

“I do it during Keith’s tutoring,” Shiro replies.  “Or later, after dinner.”

One of the pillows lifts away, then smacks Shiro gently on the back of the head.  “Tell them no, sometimes,” Allura says.  “You’re allowed to do that.  Besides, if you don’t have more free time, you won’t be able to help me convince Father to start a dueling club.”

Oh, Merlin, Shiro had totally forgotten about that.  He doesn’t have the energy to help Allura come up with reasons why one was _totally necessary for student enrichment,_ much less enjoy participating.

“But-” Shiro finally lifts his head, frowning at Allura.  Her hair is short and and auburn today.  She’s been going through a phase of changing every few days, or sometimes several times a day.  It’s about _finding herself,_ or something like that.  The joys of a metamorphagus means she has that luxury, but it makes spotting her in a crowd difficult.

Shiro really likes how Allura normally looks, but he hasn’t mentioned anything about it.  It’s a weird thing to say, really.  And it’s not about if he likes it or not, it’s about Allura having fun trying out different looks.

“But what?” Matt asks.  “What are you even doing with them that’s so important?”

“Keith’s is important,” Shiro mutters back.  “He’s doing way better in Transfiguration.”  They’ve evolved to Keith letting Shiro look over his essays for corrections, which helps tutoring a lot.  It lets Shiro see when Keith’s confused or missing a concept, and it’s a sign he’s being trusted more.  Which makes Shiro feel like someone cast _lumos_ on his chest.

Matt snorts.  “Katie isn’t.”  He grunts when Shiro kicks his foot up, nearly sending him toppling off the couch.  “Pidge, _whatever._ It’s a stupid name.”

Brows up, Allura looks him over.  “Well, if you’re so against nicknames, _Matthew.”_

Matt’s face screws up.  “Ugh, point, fine.  Whatever.  She’s getting you in on her projects or whatever, right?  I’m guessing.  Since neither of you will just _tell_ me.”

“Don’t be a tagalong, Matt,” Shiro replies, doing his best to imitate Pidge’s most annoying tone of voice.

Grabbing the pillow, Matt swats Shiro on the back.  “Shut it.  It’s not _important._ At least, it’s not more important than you crashing and burning.  She’ll get it if you need more time.  And you only talk Quidditch with that one kid.  Lance.”

“We talk about other things.”  That's mostly because Lance is utterly incapable of keeping on one topic at a time.  Quidditch was the main focus, but other topics include but are not limited to: Household spells, favorite childhood stories, favorite foods, favorite color, future career paths (Lance though ‘dragon rider’ was a _great_ goal), magical creatures, their home lives, ect.

Allura sighs.  “Shiro, you need time to breathe.  There has to be something you can do.  Juggling all four of them to help isn’t working.”

The worst thing is, she’s right.  Shiro’s work is slipping.  Not enough to affect his final grades yet, but noticeably.  Professor Montgomery even took him aside to ask if he’d been feeling well, since he’d accidentally only given her half his potions exam.

“I don’t want to stop,” Shiro whines, dropping his face into the pillows again.  “I like doing it.”

“Why?” Matt asks, voice flat.

There’s another soft thump, no doubt Allura hitting Matt with the pillow next.  “You like Quidditch, but it doesn’t take over your life.”

No, no it didn’t.  Shiro isn’t playing in four different Quidditch teams.  He has just the one-

Wait.

Shiro pushes himself up, nearly dropping Matt off the couch again.  “I think I’ve got it.  Allura, you’re a _genius.”_

Preening openly, Allura’s hair suddenly gets longer so she can flip it over her shoulder.  “It’s been said.”

“Why’s Allura a genius?” Matt asks, flopping forward to drape over Shiro’s back.  The extra weight sends them both onto the couch with a grunt.  “She said something obvious.”

Shiro tries to push himself up, but Matt’s dead weight keeps him down.  “Get off.”

“Not until you tell me.”

“I’m a genius because I’m better at advice than you,” Allura tells them, smirking widely.  She gets up, stepping away a few feet.

Shiro doesn’t think much of that, too busy trying to buck Matt off, but then Allura takes a few steps forward and _hops,_ then lands on top of them both.

Immediately, Shiro is jammed deep into the cushions of the couch, only able to flail his arms under the combined weight.  Matt howls like Allura tried to cut out his spleen with a spoon, nearly drowning out her cackles.

“Holt!”  Someone barks, startling all three of them into silence (or mostly silence: Shiro has to really gasp to get air with both of them on him).  “You three keep it down or take it elsewhere.”

Matt groans.  “Not my fault.”

There’s a snort in response.

Allura slides off them, brushing off her robes.  “Sorry, Hammond.”  She settles back down on her spot as Matt slides away.  Shiro gasps, taking a deep breath now that his lungs are finally free.  “Better, Shiro?”

“I can _breathe,”_ he wheezes.

“I meant about your tutoring woes, but congratulations.”

Shiro opens his mouth to keep complaining, but he pauses.  He does feel better, both because of his plan and because of the goofing off.  He hasn’t messed around with them in a while.  He hasn’t had _time._  

They had a good point about needing space.  Shiro hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it, what with everything else in his life.

“Yeah,” he replies.  “I do.”

There are lots of things Shiro doesn’t have, true.  But he does have good friends.

Now he just needs a good chiropractor.  Once his spine is fixed, he’ll work on his solution.

**06\. The Tutoring Group**

Keith is the first one to show up.  

Picking his head up, Shiro offers him a smile.  “Hey.  Thanks for agreeing to this.  If it doesn’t work for you, we can go back to one on one.”

“It’s fine.  You said Pidge would be there?  She was okay.”  Keith takes his usual seat, plopping his bag in front of him.  

Shiro nods.  “She’s one of them.  And there’s two other first years.  But I’m serious, okay?  Like I was with Pidge.  If this doesn’t work for you, we’ll go back to one-on-one time for us.”

For a long moment Keith only stares, but then he nods, his shoulders relaxing.  “Okay.”  He doesn’t say more than that, but by now Shiro can read his calm posture and bitten bottom lip.  Keith is relieved.

Before he can say more, Pidge walks over.  “Hi.  Keith, right?”  She settles in next to the Gryffindor, stretching out comfortably in her chair.

“Yeah.  Hi.”  Keith’s posture stiffens again, but he manages a friendly nod.  

“So, is this all going to be Transfiguration?” Pidge asks.  “That’s what you do for Keith, right?  It’s what you said.”

“It can be whatever you need to work on,” Shiro replies easily.  “I figure if I need to talk about something for everyone, I can, but mostly I’ll just help out if anyone has questions.  Like when you needed help with your camera, but Keith kept doing his homework.”

Pidge’s fingers shoots up to her lips.  “Shh.  What camera help?  No cameras here.”

Lips curling up, Shiro shakes his head.  “Matt isn’t here.”

“Listening ears, Shiro.”  But she grins as she pulls out her books.  “That doesn’t sound bad.  It doesn’t have to be just homework, right?”

“Nope, it can be anything you’d like help with.  So long as it’s legal.  And quiet.  And safe.”

Pidge sighs dramatically.  “You’re asking a lot of me, but okay.”  

“The, uh, the camera’s okay, then?”  Keith asks.

Pidge puts her finger to her lips again, but nods.  “Yeah.  I’ll show you later, if you want.  But shhh.”

Nodding his understanding, Keith casts a quick, baffled look at Shiro, same as when he first met Pidge.  But he seems amused, at least, so Shiro’s content they’ll work well together.

“You!”

The call makes Keith jump, and immediately his expression transforms into a dark scowl.  “What do you want?”

Shiro looks over his shoulder to see Lance, hands on his hips and eyes narrowed.  Hunk stands half a step behind him, already groaning into his hands.

“Who cares about that? What are _you_ doing here?” Lance demands.  “Are you bugging Shiro?  Go away.”

Keith’s mouth falls open in outrage.  “I’m not!  This is _my_ tutoring session.”

“No way,” Lance replies.  “We were invited!”

“I was too!”

A loudly cleared throat makes them both pause.  The librarian scowls at them, arms crossed.  “This volume is _unacceptable._  This is a library, not the Great Hall.”

“Apologies, Madame,” Shiro says, holding up his hands.  “It’s my fault for surprising them. We’ll be quiet after this.  I promise.”

She huffs darkly, eyeing them all.  Then she holds up a finger in clear warning - one more time and they’re out - before slipping away through the shelves again.

The second her back is turned, Shiro casts a Silencing Charm.  Then he sighs.  “I invited both of you  Please, sit down.”

Lance looks between them both, his arms tightly crossed over his chest.  “Why does Mullet need tutoring?”

“Why do _you?”_

“Enough.”  Shiro groans out the word, afraid to shout and test his Silencing Charm.  It makes them stop anyway.  “Please sit.  We’ll talk this through, alright?”  He offers Hunk a strained smile.  “Good afternoon.  Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Keith.”  He nods to each of them in turn, so they can learn each other’s names.  Not that it’s necessary for some of them, clearly.

“Hi, Shiro.”  Hunk’s returning smile is shaky at the edges, clearly mortified at the fight.  When he sits, he mouths ‘sorry.’

Shiro nods back, biting back a sigh.  This was not how he wanted the first five minutes of his tutoring group to go.

Once everyone is seated - Lance and Keith as far away from each other as possible - Shiro nods to them all.  “I’m sorry for changing it up on everyone like this, so thank you for coming to this time.  I’ve enjoyed working with all of you, but between everyone it’s gotten to be a little much on my schedule.”

Hunk’s hands clap over his mouth.  “Oh no!  Was it affecting your schoolwork?  I’m so sorry!”

“Not yet,” Shiro reassures him.  “But I can’t keep doing it that way anymore, I’m sorry.  I don’t mind answering questions or talking with you, but it’s a lot to do all the time.  So I thought I’d have you all together.  But now it seems like it might not work.”

Lance shifts in his chair, still looking between Shiro and Keith.  “What happens if we don’t want to do group tutoring?”

“You don’t have to.  But we can’t go back to before.  I just don’t have the time to balance between all four of you.  Which means I’d have to put more limits on when I can help.”  Shiro’s shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes.  “I want to keep helping you all, but I _can’t.”_

There’s silence at that.  When Shiro looks again, they all have a guilty air.  “I didn’t know it was causing you problems,” Pidge offers.  “I can go to Matt more.”

“I don’t want you to,” Shiro replies.  “Well, no, you can talk to Matt if you like, obviously.  But I like doing this.  This is my compromise, that’s all.  If you need me the rest of the time, fine, but this was the best idea I had.”

Lance bites his bottom lip and takes a deep breath.  Of the four of them, Lance’s conversations are the least school-oriented.  Shiro didn’t think that made them less _important,_ though.  Lance seemed to do well with someone to listen to him and a dash of encouragement.  His potions scores were still increasing, and Hunk said he was doing better on his other assignments, too.  But they still seemed the most frivolous, and knowing Lance he would assume that meant he’d be dropped first.

That was something Shiro would talk to him about one on one.  Now wasn’t the time.

But that meant that Lance had that hang-dog look like he was about to be in trouble.  “Oh.  But-”  He looks over at Keith, lips pulled down.

Keith stares back, bristled like a cornered cat.  “But what?”

Groaning, Pidge stuck one of her textbooks between their line of sight.  “No more yelling.  Don’t get us kicked out of the library.”

“Thank you.  Yes, please, no more of that.  If you really can’t, we’ll try to work it out.  But there’ll be other changes.”  Shiro sighs, deep in his chest.  “I’d appreciate it if you two would try to get along.  I don’t know why you’re fighting, but I’d like it if you at least kept from fighting for these two hours.”

“But he doesn’t even need this,” Lance mutters, still hang-dog.  “He can just pay for fancy tutoring, why does he need you?”

Keith suddenly goes stiff, and his head falls forward.

“Keith was first,” Shiro points out.  “And technically no one _needs_ me.  Any of you could join one of the group tutoring sessions in your house.”

Eyes wide, Lance chews on his bottom lip.  “But I don’t want to!”

“You don’t have to,” Shiro replies, tone tightening.  “So long as you get along.  That’s not a lot to ask of you, I don’t think.  C’mon, guys, please?  As a favor to me.”

That takes the wind out of Lance and Keith’s sails.  They look at each other, both tense.  

“Alright,” Lance allows.  “I can manage for two hours.”  Next to him, Hunk slumps in relief.

Keith nods, though he has that same sullen look he had their first tutoring session.  Like he doesn’t want to be here, but he’ll power through until he can escape.  There’s something wild about the look he sends Shiro.

Well, they both know that Shiro will work with them if they need to.  But maybe if they get into the session, they’ll forget about being angry at each other.

This is the point where Matt would say Shiro is being too Hufflepuff.  He mentally tells Matt to shut it.

“Thank you,” he replies, deeply honest.  “I appreciate that a lot.  Now, here, let’s see what you all brought to work on, okay?”

They all shuffle through their bags.  Hunk and Keith both pull out what looks like essays, Defense Against Dark Arts and Charms respectively.  Lance pulls out his Potions text with a dramatic sigh, and Pidge brights out a huge tome and a handheld telescope.

Since the other three seem contained for the moment, Shiro works with Pidge’s project first.  “I just want to get this working right,” she tells him.  “It’s not that it’s hard.  I know what to do.  But the spells are third year, so...”

It turns out what she wants is to make the telescope light up on the inside, in the hopes she’ll be able to look through it and see like it’s daytime.  Shiro suspects it won’t turn out like she plans, but casting the spells isn’t difficult.  It’s just a _lumos,_ but an additional time delay component that turns it on and off at Pidge’s command.

While the spell is easy enough, the additions are above Fourth Year curriculum.  But the theory isn’t difficult, and Pidge has already done all the research needed, so Shiro just has to cast.  After a few tries, they get it working.

“Cool!” Lance pronounces, totally giving up reading his Potions text to watch.  “What are you going to use it for?”

“Stuff,” Pidge replies, shrugging.

Shiro frowns at her.  “I thought I said nothing illegal.”

“It’s not _illegal._  Don’t be silly.”  She glances at Lance, then shrugs.  “I was going to try and look through the window in the Slytherin common room to see the bottom of the lake.  Sometimes you can see fish, but I haven’t seen mermaids or anything yet.”

Lance’s eyes practically shine.  “Can I help?”

“How?” Pidge asks, lips pursed.  

“I could help watch!” Lance says.  “That way you don’t have to just sit there.  We could take turns.”

The logic of that clearly hits home.  Pidge nods slowly.  “Okay.  I don’t know when I’m going to do it.  But when I do, I’ll see if you’re around.”

That’s enough for Lance, who beams and nods, his head bobbing eagerly.  “Sure.”

“Can I see the telescope?” Hunk asks.  “What was it that Shiro did with that spell?”

Moving over to the other side, Pidge hands Hunk the telescope and starts happily chatting away about the spell theory, thankfully keeping her voice low.  Hunk’s eyes go wide, and he immediately has a hundred questions about the process, which surprises Shiro not at all.  Luckily, Pidge seems to understand the theory enough to satisfy most of Hunk’s curiosity.  Which is good, because Shiro doesn’t know much about it at all.

But it leaves Lance and Keith on the outside of the conversation.

They manage to successfully ignore each other for a whole twenty minutes.  Shiro switches between watching them warily, making sure Pidge and Hunk keep their voices down, and trying to revise his essay for Iverson.

Eventually, the silence gets to Lance, and he looks up.  “So is this where you’ve been getting to when you disappear?”

“Sometimes,” Keith replies shortly, not looking up from his book.  He glares at it like if he just pays close enough attention, Lance will poof out of existence.

It didn’t work.  Lance rested his chin on both his palms, watching Keith carefully.  “Why?”

“Why’s it matter?”

“I want to know why I got peace from you in the room, that’s why.”

Keith practically growls as he looks up.  “I don’t say anything to you!  It’d be peaceful if you left me alone.”

“It’d be more peaceful if you weren’t so mean to everyone first,” Lance says.  

From behind his own book, Shiro watches carefully.  They’re not yelling yet - compared to earlier, they’re downright calm.  And he kind of wants to know what caused the pair of them to get at each other’s throats in barely a month.  They’re first years.  How bad can their feud be?

“I wasn’t mean,” Keith replies, sounding honestly hurt.

Lance scowls back.  “You ignored everyone!  You never wanted to talk or go to breakfast together.”

That makes Keith’s lips press together and he looks away.  “I wasn’t being mean.  I just wasn’t sure what to say.”

“No, I get it,” Lance replies.  “You’re very fancy and very Pureblooded and you’ve got nothing to say to the rest of us.  I get it.”

“That’s not it!” Keith stands up, his voice suddenly rising.  There’s a hint of tightness to his expression.  If it was anyone else, there might have been tears, but Keith just looks angry.  “You don’t know anything.”

“Hey,” Shiro calls, finally stepping in before it can escalate to a full argument.  “What did you promise me?”

Lance sighs. “No fighting.  But Shiro-”

“I don’t care,” Shiro says flatly, annoyance trickling into his voice.  “Or, I don’t care if this is about who started it, or backgrounds, or any of that.  I care about you doing your homework.”

Lips twisting, Lance huffs.  “Fine.”

“It sounds to me like you both got off on the wrong foot,” Shiro continues.  “I’m not going to try and make you start over or be friends, but I’m asking you to let it go for now.”

“I already said fine.”  

Shiro turns his gaze onto Keith, brows up in question.  Clearly there’s something deeper going on here.  If he wants to go, Shiro won’t stop him.

But Keith finally sighs and settles down again.

An hour and a half left.  They can do this.  Really, they can.

“Do either of you need help?”

Keith doesn’t speak, nearly folded into himself.  Lance glances at him, then nods.  “Actually, yeah.  There’s something in the Potions reading I don’t get.  Can you explain it like you did the Boil Cure stuff?”

Nodding, Shiro pulls his chair closer to Lance and starts to talk.  He keeps an ear on Pidge and Hunk, who have moved onto the theory of charming Muggle objects for magical use, like the camera _(Merlin,_ those two), and keeps glancing over at Keith, just to make sure he’s okay.

“But how do you know what color you’re going to get, if it all comes out looking grey?” Lance asks, nose crinkling at his textbook.

“Experimentation,” Shiro replies, grinning.  “And sometimes you get a hue change.  But that’ll get you points off with Professor Harris.”

Lance sticks out his tongue.  “Eugh.  I don’t need more excuses for that. So I just turn it in and hope for the best?”

“Drop it on your parchment.”  Keith’s eyes glance up through his bangs.

Lance bristles and opens his mouth, but Shiro puts a hand on his shoulder.  “Good thinking, Keith,” Shiro says.  “You can also dip something in, like a quill, but it’s better to drip.  You don’t want accidentally drop something in and change the potion’s properties.”

Glancing at Shiro, Lance finally sighs and relaxes.  “Yeah.  I guess that’s a good idea.  Not that I can do anything about it if it’s wrong.”

“Sure you can,” Shiro replies.  “You just need to figure out what’s causing your potion to be off, and then learn some counters.”

Lance’s eyes go wide.  “Just, he says.”

That makes Shiro laugh.  “Alright, maybe not just.  But there’s a few hints.  For one, water is almost always okay.  The textbook will say if it’s a bad idea for your potion in the beginning, but otherwise, if it’s too thick you can always water it down.  If it’s too thin, letting it sit on a simmer will help thicken it.”

“Like soup.”

“Exactly.”

Lance smirks.  “See?  Cooking.  Told you.”

“Baking is still better.”  Shiro nudges him fondly, and Lance smiles up at him, all mischief.

When Shiro looks over again, Keith’s expression is tight.

“Any questions, Keith?”

Keith’s eyes dart up to Shiro’s face, then to Lance.  “No.”

“If Lance promises not to make any comments about your questions, since you did the same for him?”

“Ugh,” Lance groans.  “Yeah, yeah.  It’s tutoring.  No comments.”  He doesn’t look thrilled about it, but he nods.

Keith glances between them both, then nods.  “One question.  I can do the Locking Charm, but I can’t do the unlocking, and I don’t know why.”

“Hm.”  Shiro moves over to his side.  “Show me your wand movements.”

They work through that for a while, as Pidge and Hunk settle into doing their actual homework, thank Merlin.  As he corrects Keith’s flick (which has reverted to a jab again), Shiro notices Lance watching from the corner of his eye, practicing with tiny movements using his quill.  Keith notices too, his eyes flickering over with each movement.

“Just practice with us,” Keith says, sighing.  

Lance freezes, caught.  But there’s no point in denying it, and Shiro’s right there, so he doesn’t protest.  Instead he scoots closer, and Shiro works them both through making their movements more graceful and pronounced.

That and essay checking gets them through the rest of the session.  By the end, Shiro’s _exhausted._  It’s twice as long as his normal Keith tutoring, combined with having four first years to look after.  How do adults do this _all the time?_

“Thank you, everyone,” Shiro finally says, managing a wide smile.  “I’ll see you later, alright?  If you want to do this again, we can do Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“Thanks, Shiro,” Pidge says, pocketing her telescope again.  “It really is cool of you to do this.”

“It’s no problem.  I’ve said before, I like doing it.  I just want to make sure it doesn’t eat my life whole.”

“Chomp,” Lance agrees, smiling.  But his expression falls as he finishes packing up.  He leans over and mutters to Hunk, who bites his bottom lip but nods.  With a last goodbye to Shiro, Hunk walks out with Pidge instead, both still chattering.

Shiro feels like he should write an apology to the wizarding world for what he just unleashed.

“All good, Keith?”

“Yeah.”  Keith shoves his books into his bag.  “Thank you, Shiro.”  He shifts like he wants to say something, but then glances at Lance, who hasn’t gotten up yet.  Finally he nods significantly to Shiro, then scampers off.

They’ll talk later.  Shiro has no doubt of that.  Probably, he’ll want one-on-one sessions again.

Shiro can’t exactly blame him.

“Um, so, about Keith,” Lance says.  His expression is unusually solemn.

Brows up, Shiro tilts his head.  “Yes?”

“Look.  You should know that-”  Lance makes a face, then steps over, lowering his voice.  “I wouldn’t say anything, but you don’t seem to know and you’re Muggleborn, so I think I should tell you.  Keith’s family is...” He winces.  “They’re really Dark.”.

It takes Shiro a moment to register the capital ‘D’ on Dark.  Then his stomach drops.  “Oh.”  

What else is he supposed to say?  Keith’s never seemed like the kind of care about blood.  He definitely doesn’t care about appearances, and Shiro still suspects he hasn’t been very well taken care of.  

But it’s still terrifying, to be told someone’s from a Dark family.  That Keith’s family would want Shiro dead, or at least not made a proper wizard.

“That’s why it’s so- well, most of the boys in our dorm are Muggleborn or Halfblood.  And then me, but my family’s not exactly made up of model purebloods.”  Lance shrugs, deliberately light.  “He doesn’t talk to us or hang out.  He’s out a lot, really.  So, I thought you should know.  Just in case.”

Shiro takes a deep breath, trying to reconcile that information with what he knows of Keith.  “I’ll keep an eye out,” he finally says.  “But, Lance, honestly?  I think Keith’s just introverted.”

Crinkling his nose, Lance tilts his head.  “What?”

“Not good with people.  Socially awkward.”  Shiro sighs.  “I’m not saying you don’t have a point, because you might.  I don’t know.  But I’m saying maybe don’t jump to conclusions.  And definitely no fighting at tutoring.”

Lance frowns at him, then shrugs.  “Maybe.  I don’t know.  He doesn’t talk to us, so I _can’t_ know.  Why else would he avoid everyone?”

“Some people just prefer being alone, you know,” Shiro replies, a hint of amusement in his voice.  “Just keep it in mind.  It’s possible I’m wrong.  But it’d be easier on you both if you didn’t fight.”

“Why would anyone _prefer_ being alone?” Lance asks, honestly baffled.  “Don’t they get lonely?”

“Sometimes.”

Lance sighs.  “Fine, fine.  No fighting during tutoring.  I can do that.  We were pretty good for most of it, even.”  He swings his bag over his shoulder, grunting when it hits his back.

Shiro nods.  “You were.  Thank you for that.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t a lot to ask.  You just made sure we didn’t get thrown out.”  Lance nods to him.  “See you later, Shiro.”

“Bye, Lance.  Thank you for speaking to me.”

With a last nod, Lance slips out of the library as well, scrambling to catch up with Hunk and Pidge.

Sighing, Shiro slumps down and presses his face to the table.

Why was this so _hard?_

***

“Lance told you, didn’t he?”

Shiro closes his eyes, then turns around to look at Keith.  His arms are crossed defiantly as he stands in the middle of the hallway.  It's easily their most public interaction, since Keith is the only one of them who hasn’t pulled Shiro aside during meals or between classes.

“Yes,” Shiro replies, because Keith still likes being direct.  “Let’s talk.”  He puts his hand on Keith’s shoulder.  He jolts at the touch, so Shiro pulls his hand back quickly, his heart pounding.

Keith glances up at him.  “I was just startled.”  But he doesn’t stay still for another shot, ducking into the nearest empty classroom.

Following, Shiro closes the door and sighs.  “Lance did speak to me about you, yes.  He was concerned.”

Keith sits down on one of the desks, dropping his head.  “I figured.”

Silence hangs between them until Shiro takes a deep breath.  “Do you want to say something about it?”

Head popping back up, Keith frowns.  “What have you decided?”

“Nothing yet,” Shiro replies.  “I don’t know the full story.  I know what Lance thinks, but I don’t know what you think.”

Keith swallows hard, and gets that same pinched look as before.  The one like he should be crying but isn’t.  “I don’t hate you.”

Brows rising, Shiro eyes him.  “Good to know.”

“I don’t!” Keith insists, like it’s the most important thing in the world that Shiro knows that.  Which is odd, given how quiet Keith usually is.  “I really don’t. I don’t care about any of that stuff.”

Shiro sits down next to him on the desk, bracing with one foot so it doesn’t topple over.  “Well, good.  I’m glad to hear it.  But I didn’t really think you hated me.  You don’t really seem to hide it when you don’t like something.”

Shrugging, Keith sighs.  “Yeah.  I just- I don’t know what Lance told you.”

“Not much.  The word Dark was thrown around.  It was vague, though.  He was trying to be polite about it.”

Keith snorts like he doesn’t believe that.  This time, Shiro lets it go.  “He’s right.  My family- I don’t know.  I don’t live with my mom and dad, so I’ve moved between relatives a lot.  And they- it doesn’t _matter_ what they think.  They’re wrong about a lot of stuff.  No one’s cared to make sure I think what I’m supposed to, so I don’t give a _shit_ about any of the blood nonsense.”

The language makes Shiro’s brows jump.  It sounds odd coming from an eleven year old, nevermind that Shiro had definitely cursed at that age.  “Okay,” he replies.

“I really don’t!” Keith insists again, hands clenched in his lap.  “Really.”

“I believe you,” Shiro tells him.  “Honestly.  I don’t think you hate me, and I believe that-”  He bites off the words.  It’s probably not polite to say ‘I believe your guardians don’t take good care of you’.  But Keith acts so on edge and so independent.  It’s not hard to connect the dots.

Frankly it makes Shiro want to bundle him up and put him on the train to meet his parents.  But that’s getting ahead of himself.

Keith keeps staring, his gaze direct and intense enough to make Shiro want to look away.  He holds it anyway until Keith finally nods, relaxing.  “Good.  I’m glad.”

“Just to be sure,” Shiro says, “I’m guessing you don’t feel very comfortable with most everyone, not just non-Purebloods.”

Sighing, Keith nods.  “Yeah.  I don’t say things right or I say the wrong things.  At the end I’m just tired.  So I spend a lot of time outside.  I like the lake.  The giant squid is pretty cool.”

“It is,” Shiro replies.  “Maybe you can join Pidge’s project to try and see it up close.”

Keith’s nose crinkles.  “Lance is doing that.”

“I think if you two manage to spend more time together without fighting then it’ll get better.”  Shiro really thinks that, now.  Lance had good intentions, and it’s hard to say he doesn’t have a point.  Shiro knows full well there are people who really believe in blood purity and shun anyone who doesn’t match their narrow definitions of a wizard or witch.  

But Keith’s not one of those, and hopefully Lance will see that and give him a chance.

“Okay,” Keith replies.  “I’ll try.  I want to see the squid.”  Glancing at Shiro, he smiles.  “Thank you.  You didn’t have to believe me.”

“Yeah, I did.  I know you.  We’re friends.”

Keith beams back, sudden and bright.

Smiling back just as warmly, Shiro tilts his head.  “Want to give the joint tutoring one more shot?  I know it’s louder, but I know you get along with Pidge and I think you’ll do well with Hunk.  We’ll see about Lance.”

Keith considers, then nods.  “One more shot.”

**+1 These are the things Shiro has**

Shiro has his Hufflepuff patch and his Hufflepuff ties, bold and bright and true.  He’s never wished they were anything else.  Sure, sometimes being just and patient is hard, especially when Shiro ends up tutoring four students because he’s bad at saying no.  But he’s never, ever regretted being a Hufflepuff.  He’ll take the chaos any day.

Shiro has a goal.  Maybe not a plan, no.  Maybe he doesn’t know what he’s going to do with the rest of his life right now.  But Matt and Allura are right - he doesn’t need everything planned out just yet.  For now, it’s enough to aim to be a Prefect.  He’d be a good one, he thinks.  Over the past few weeks he’s gotten plenty of practice.

Shiro has a family who loves him very much, and who he loves in return.  There are people who will look down at him for that, and there are jobs that will pass him up because he doesn’t have a legacy and a Name.  But those aren’t people wants to work with in the first place, so screw them.  Shiro’s parents love and support him, even letting him go off to a weird magic school for nine months out of the year.  There are families that don’t have that much, even if they do have a name and a legacy.  Shiro knows which he’d pick.

Shiro has a busy schedule.  Between classes, homework, quidditch, tutoring and Allura’s latest crusade (“The defense league is about _self actualization!”),_ Shiro has a lot on his plate.  But he loves it all.  Well, maybe not homework, and class isn’t always fun, but he wouldn’t give up the rest of it for the world.

Shiro has the two best friends anyone could ask for.  Yes, they don’t understand everything he’s going through, not always.  But Shiro doesn’t understand the pressures of having the Headmaster for a father, or coming from a family where genius is average.  They don’t need to perfectly emphasize with each other’s struggles.  It’s enough that they support each other.  That can be helping to set up dueling tournaments, or it can be dogpiling each other on a couch.  They love each other, even if it makes Shiro’s cheeks heat to say.

Shiro has a gaggle of first years who look up to him.  They’re friends, though it’s a different kind of friendship than what he has with Matt and Allura.  Still, Shiro adores them, and he knows they adore him back because they tell him so pretty often.  It still makes his heart melt like left out ice cream every time they say it.  Maybe they’re a chaotic bunch, and maybe they’ve been kicked out of the library at least twice by now (the first time was when Lance officially declared Keith his ‘rival’ and needled him until Keith yelled his agreement.  The second time was when Hunk and Pidge’s project started to belch black smoke that Shiro couldn’t stop).  But it’s some of the most fun Shiro’s had while doing homework.  Now that they’re finally (mostly) getting along, it’s his favorite part of the week.  Usually.

Shiro might not have a badge or a legacy or a plan.  Or free time.

But he has people who love him very much.

And after he falls asleep mid-tutoring, head pillowed on his books and dark bangs spilling into his face, he has a new blanket and pillow, courtesy of his group.  They tuck him in as best they can and work quietly on their essays, letting him nap.

Shiro wakes up with a smile and his chest melting.

For all the things Shiro doesn’t have, he thinks he’s very, very lucky.


End file.
